SPINNING AND BAIT FISHING. 389 



flown with it, as, of course, it does, a certain amount of bottom 

 food, puts the fish at once on the alert and on the look-out for 

 * ground bait.' There is a pool on the upper Usk, locally called 

 the Bason Pool, with a stone in the middle which acts as a 

 sort of water-gauge, and when this stone was nearly, but not 

 quite, covered, worm fishing in the pool was at its perfection, 

 no matter whether the level were reached by the rising or fall- 

 ing process. When once the water was over the stone it would 

 be a saving of patience and tackle to sit down on the bank and 

 smoke, for the chance of killing a fish was almost nil. 



Everyone knows, of course, that the rule of a certain level 

 of water being requisite holds good with regard to fishing with 

 the fly in almost every pool. I well remember that my friend, 

 Mr. John Blackwall, junior, quite the most successful salmon 

 fisher on the Conway, used to have such a water-gauge on 

 the side of the river opposite his drawing-room window, some 

 quarter of a mile off, but which he could yet command by the 

 aid of a strong telescope or a pair of field-glasses, and he never 

 used to think of sallying forth until the water had reached the 

 exact mark. 



This is all very well, however, for salmon fishers residing 

 constantly within sight of their river, to whom time is of no 

 particular object, and every month of the season open. For 

 my own part, it takes a very bad state of water indeed to keep 

 me from the riverside, and I must say that I can recall not 

 one, but many occasions, when I have put my rod together 

 amongst the scarcely suppressed jeers of my friends, and in the 

 teeth of local quidnuncs, with the result of killing a salmon 

 after all. I recollect once, in particular, on the Bush, in 

 the long pool below Bush mills, when the water was almost 

 chocolate colour, and very nearly opaque, so that even my 

 friend, Dr. Peard, one of the most expert and indefatigable of 

 salmon fishers, as well as the most charming of companions, 

 thought it hopeless to cast a fly and he knew the Bush from 

 the sea to the Leap, every stone and turn of it. And yet I had 

 not been fishing ten minutes with one of Willie Haughie's 



